


[Book Of] Revelations

by Piper



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper/pseuds/Piper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod and Abbie speak briefly of one of Ichabod's past relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Book Of] Revelations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinstripesuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripesuit/gifts).



Chivalry, Ichabod would insist, dictated that she should sit while he waited on line --bloated with lunchtime customers-- placed their orders, and brought them back to their table with anything else she might need. Logic and the general well being of her sanity and weekly caffeine intake, Abbie insisted, dictated the exact opposite. She would let him know, she promised, the next time she wanted to be banned from Starbucks. Until then chivalry could take a quiet seat over there in the corner, far, far away from the barista with the piercings and the evil eye. 

Abbie grabbed their orders with as little fuss as she could manage (a misunderstanding over whipped cream two weeks before was still fresh in everyone's minds) and retreated to the corner window seats Ichabod had chosen. They were slightly more open than she would have liked, with large bay windows looking out onto the Main Street sidewalk, but the leather chairs were comfortable and even Ichabod, with his ramrod straight posture, looked slightly more relaxed than he usually did. 

“Peppermint mocha for you.” She placed the drink on the table. “Dirty chai for me.”

Ichabod stood when she approached and didn't move to sit back down until she'd settled herself in the chair across from him. He didn't reach for his cup until she'd taken a sip from hers, and that suited her just fine, giving her ample time to hide a grin behind the red and white cup.

“I'm not sure if subtly is quite your strongest attribute,” Ichabod muttered. 

Abbie snorted outright. “Be nice. I appreciate the gesture.” She found her cell phone in her pocket, pulled it out, flipped the switch to vibrate, and set it on the table. 

“Are you expecting a phone message?”

“Expecting one? No, but I've found lately that my days generally go to shit when I'm least expecting it,” she said, quickly adding, “Which has less to do with you than the fact that I'm a police officer with an unpredictable schedule and an unhinged sibling. I know where you are.”

“I took no offense.” Ichabod said. “I only asked because the continued presence of a phone during casual conversation seemed a topic of much discord for the two back there.” He canted his head just so at a table just behind them and to their right. She didn't have to turn to see the pair of men, clearly in a relationship, who appeared to be very much over whatever dispute they'd had.

Abbie politely averted her eyes from the kissing couple and smiled. “I think they're good.”

“I assure you, they were having a row that could have woken the dead,” he said, turning to look over the high collar of his coat; as though it offered any means of cover from the accusation that he might be staring. It didn't prevent her from noticing the red blush creep up his cheeks before he also looked away from the couple and suddenly seemed very interested in the generically festive designs adorning his cup. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Perhaps you were right.”

“It's generally considered impolite to have the thing permanently attached to your face, but it's nothing to end a relationship over,” she explained. “And if you blush like that every time you see two men engaging in PDAs you're not gonna make it halfway through Fall in apple picking country.”

It was entirely possible that she could count the exact number of phrases contained in her statement that went over Ichabod's head just by reading the lines on his face. “What you're saying is... that's commonplace?”

She nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Well, when two people love each other very much...”

“The feelings of such circumstances are not unbeknownst to me.” He cleared his throat once more and murmured as he lifted his cup. “Just not their, erm, public practice.”

Chivalry reared its ugly head once more when Abbie promptly choked and sputtered on her chai and Ichabod rose immediately to come to her aid. She waved him off with one hand, slapping her chest with the other until the liquid found its way down the correct pipe and the burning sensation in her throat had subsided. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Sit, please,” she wheezed, still waving her hand. “Seriously. Sit.”

“I've shocked you.”

She wiped her hand across her mouth. “Just a little.”

“You said it was commonplace.”

So she had, and while Abbie prided herself on being someone who took even the most unlikely of situations in stride (she was, after all, having a coffee with a man who'd fought in the Revolutionary War) there was a difference between speaking in the abstract and, well, not. “I meant that in a... general sense. Not a you sense. I wasn't expecting--” she paused. “Did Katrina know?”

“With the totality of the secrets we know she kept from me, is it so wrong that she did not?” he countered. “I certainly didn't keep it from her out of malice, but given that Abraham was my closest friend and confidant I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that I would love, equally, any woman he chose. Had she not returned my affection, Abraham and I would not have been-- well, you know what happened then. Though perhaps now you understand why a duel was so quickly fought.”

“Because it was alright if he had something going on the side, but God forbid anyone try and pull that on him? Typical man,” Abbie shrugged. “Continue.”

Ichabod shook his head. “There's little more to it than that,” he said. “There have been times when I wonder whether or not there's still something –anything-- of him in Moloch's creature and, if there is, if that might explain even part of the viciousness he comes for me with.”

“I think that's just a side effect of making a deal with a demon in the first place. Violent rage,” Abbie said. She met his eyes. “That's not something you get to blame yourself for no matter who you may have been, um... intimate with.”

“Maybe not directly, but our actions led to our duel, which led to his transformation into this thing. Had we not been as close as we were our rift over Katrina might have been resolved in a more civilized manner. There's a good chance I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now.” He frowned. “My son might have grown up knowing some emotion other than fear.”

“My ancestor was at your son's side when he was born and now we're sitting here, over two hundred years in the future. I don't think either of us had much of a choice as to how any of this was going to play out.” She didn't like to admit that her fate might not be entirely in her own hands, but the current trajectory of their lives said otherwise. “I just wasn't expecting you having a fling with the headless horseman to be a part of it.”

He was silent a moment before a murmured, “he was Abraham then.”

Abbie inhaled slowly, kneading her knuckles against the armrest. “I'm sorry, Crane.”

“None of this is your fault.” 

“Well, still.”

“I do appreciate the sentiment, Miss. Mills.” 

She couldn't quite smile, not after what she'd heard, but she leaned forward and placed her hand over his arm. She squeezed slightly as she attempted to find the correct words, but this wasn't a situation that any of their -admittedly strange time together- had prepared her for. What comment was she supposed to make about his former relationship with the thing that was currently attempting to kill them on a weekly basis?

Her face set in a sympathetic look as she continued to think, and she opened her mouth to let loose a platitude that she was sure wouldn't be sufficient to the situation. But before she could say anything too insignificant, a loud buzzing seemed to erupt from the table. She glanced down. “Irving.”

“Pardon?”

Abbie smiled apologetically. “Pretty sure we're being called in.” She gave his arm one last squeeze before moving to grab the phone from the table. “But you and me, tonight? Alcohol. All of it. I'm buying.”


End file.
